


words cannot espresso how much you bean to me

by pigmey



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Multi, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, bughead - Freeform, bughead au, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-11-18 13:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11291469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigmey/pseuds/pigmey
Summary: Bughead Coffee Shop AU.Veronica Lodge knows how to spend money well. Archie Andrews is a dumb boy, but everyone loves him anyway.And Betty Cooper just tries to protect her second favorite author from some bloodthirsty reporters.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> It should eventually be about 3-4 chapters long. I have more or less the entirety mapped out in my head, but I'm not promising any frequent updates as I'm about to move to another country next week. You can imagine it's kind of stressful ;)
> 
> If you'd like to see something happening here, by all means put it in the comments, my plan for this is very flexible. (Like most of my plans in life, really.)
> 
> English is my second language so I appreciate comments on grammar/word use.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica has some good ideas about taking advantage of her father's fortune. Betty adds a beanie boy to her 'regular customers' collection.

_Ronnie 10:17 am_

_If I buy a coffee shop, will u come & work for me?_

 

_Ronnie 10:18 am_

_Part time at least_

 

_Ronnie 11:09 am_

_Nevermind already bought it now u have no choice_

 

_Ronnie 11:31 am_

_Meet me at Pop’s after your exam xo_

 

The fifth message from Veronica Lodge, a fresh business school graduate, contained a selfie in front of an indistinctive, albeit cute café. She wore her usual huge sunglasses and dark lipstick and held an ownership act in her hand.

Betty Cooper smiled at the photo and headed towards the subway. The diner was just two stops away from the campus, so they met there fairly regularly. Veronica already sat in their favorite booth, visibly giddy with excitement.

“Hi, B!” she exclaimed, hugging her friend tightly. “Look at you, girl! What an outfit!”

Betty wore a smart pastel pink pant suit, a perfectly ironed blue shirt and a pair of black sandals.

“Thanks, Kev and I went shopping last week as a way of procrastinating before exams. My wallet shed actual tears.”

“Lunch is on me, then! Sit, I’ve already ordered our usual. How did your exam go?”

“It was fine, but shut up and show me the damn paper, Ronnie.”

Veronica grinned and eagerly showed Betty the brand-new ownership act.

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Veronica beamed. “I saw an ad, I immediately went to see it live and I just couldn’t resist. The place is amazing, I don’t even know why anyone would sell it, but the former owner said he just wanted to move on or something. Anyway, he’s leaving a whole crew of top-notch baristas behind. I want to keep everyone if I can.”

“Have you met them yet?”

“I met Archie, he made me a mean iced cappuccino, and let me tell you—he’s the hottest ginger you’ve ever seen. And he’s single.”

“Ah, the irresistible appeal of workplace romance,” Betty mocked.

“I’m just making an observation,” Veronica shrugged. “What about my proposition, B?”

Betty looked down at her hands.

“V…”

“I know, I know, the internship and everything, but you said it’s just a few hours a week!”

“I said _twenty_ ,” Betty clarified. “It’s a proper part-time job and I want to spend as much time as I can at the editorial office, make some connections.”

“You’ll be slaving your ass off there for free. I’m just saying.”

“You’re… right. Actually, I was going to look for a job anyway. A paying one. It’s just—do you think us working together would be a good idea?”

Veronica pointed a triumphant finger at her friend.

“Ha! I knew you were going to say something like that, so I come prepared. Look, Archie’s going part-time for the summer to attend some music course—I know, he’s a _musician_ —so I need someone to fill in his hours. Ideally someone I trust. And you’ve got experience, which makes you the perfect candidate.”

“Three months at Starbucks is hardly—“

Veronica shushed her with a gesture. “I propose very flexible hours and another boss. By which I mean, you won’t be answering directly to me, but to Joaquin and Cheryl. They’re my full-time baristas and have the most experience. And I pay a decent wage. Plus tips.”

Betty sighed. She had quite liked being a barista in the past and an extra coin certainly wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m putting my internship _first_ ,” she stressed.

“Yes! Thank you! B and V, together at last!”

They ate their lunch, chatting about the redecorating project Veronica already had in mind.

“You bought the coffee shop literally three hours ago,” Betty pointed out.

“Yes, I know. The color scheme is going to be blue and gold.”

 

*

 

Betty’s schedule got tight pretty quickly after she signed a part-time contract with Veronica. She didn’t mind—keeping busy prevented laziness, which she was prone to when bored, although on the other hand she now had trouble re-reading her new favorite book, ‘The Fourth X’ by FP Jones. In the mornings Betty either went to the office or worked on other projects. She still took some freelance journalist jobs, mainly to repair her budget after that reckless shopping spree with Kevin. Most afternoons and evenings she spent at the café, gradually derusting her barista skills under Archie’s supervision. He taught her how to pour a rosetta, something she’d never learned before and always wanted to. They practiced for a week when the café got closed for redecoration.

Veronica decided to hire her versatile baristas to implement the project, instead of an actual crew. Everybody not only got immediately on board with the idea, but seemed really excited about it. Therefore, Betty got to know the rest of her new colleagues while painting walls and wooden furniture.

It turned out that Betty and Archie attended the same high school in Bronx, where they were both from. He was a year older than her, but she did remember him, the ginger who would chase girls and serenade them with varying results. He didn’t change that much since high school. His music course took place in the evenings, so he mainly covered morning shifts.

Cheryl Blossom, with her annoyingly beautiful long red hair and impeccable crimson lipstick, turned out to be Betty’s least favorite crew member. For Veronica’s sake, though, she decided not to reject her at the very beginning.

“Apparently,” said Ronnie, when Betty asked her about the red-haired girl, “after her twin brother got murdered, she ditched her filthy rich parents and their maple syrup fortune to move to New York. Arch tells me she’s been making a living on her own ever since. I respect that. And the fact that she doesn’t make a martyr out of herself after everything that’s happened to her.”

Betty couldn’t disagree with that.

Then there was Joaquin DeSantos, very mysterious, very handsome and very gay. Betty tried to casually mention her ‘absolutely delightful and also single’ roommate Kevin whenever he was around, just to lay a foundation for their potential future meeting. Joaquin was a full time barista and a passionate one—many of the regular customers came especially for him and his legendary flat whites.

The last one was Ethel, the newest addition to the crew, apart from Betty herself. She studied engineering at City Tech and was probably the nicest person Betty’s ever met, excellent at chatting and connecting with guests. Her restrained manner of speaking had the magical power of bringing calmness even to the most stressed of people. Veronica put Ethel in charge of what she called ‘The Etiquette’—a new set of rules designed to provide the best customer service possible.

Ronnie decided to keep the name. She liked it, even though it had little to do with actual coffee. Archie claimed that regular customers recognized it and some of them might not like a change.

Therefore, the signboard hanged over the entrance stayed. It read ‘Riverdale Café’.

 

*

 

Betty quickly got accustomed to working regular shifts. She mainly took care of taking orders and preparing them, slowly learning all recipes by heart, although after a few days Veronica decided she should also be gradually trained in shift management, so from time to time Betty stayed after hours to watch Joaquin, Cheryl or Archie handle the day’s earnings.

She was glad to have accepted Veronica’s proposal, because her internship was disastrous. She mainly just edited other journalists’ horrid articles. Not that she wanted to contribute that much—the paper turned out to be much more tabloid than she’d expected. It might have been the new editor-in-chief’s fault, who seemed to be more eager to chase cheap sensation than actual local news.

Because of that situation, for Betty working at Riverdale equaled leisure. She enjoyed improving her latte art skills, but the thing she liked most was getting to know regular customers, memorizing when they usually appeared and what they ordered.

There were two handsome men in their forties, who came every other day in the evening and flirted the hell out of whoever was taking orders at the register. They were supposedly both married with kids, but the baristas headcanoned them as a cute gay couple anyway. Then there was a timid man who ordered a flat white in a porcelain cup and drank it as quickly as possible, never making eye contact with anyone. And an wholehearted, elderly lady who always wanted a few granola yogurts and ‘her coffee’ to go. The first time, when Betty got confused and didn’t know what the lady meant, Cheryl whispered ‘it’s flat white’ to her. After that, Betty always had a little chat with the lady at the register if there weren’t too many people waiting.

About two weeks after the re-opening, on a Friday afternoon, Betty was having a particularly fun shift with Archie behind the counter. Veronica sat in the office, struggling with a schedule for the next month. They heard her let out a exasperated grunt from time to time—creating a schedule that would accommodate everyone’s extracurricular activities and at the same time not break any labor laws was almost impossible.

The weather outside was beautiful, so customers were unsurprisingly sparse as half of the city drove out for the approaching weekend. Archie and Betty poured tulips, using cheaper milk and expired coffee that got approved by Veronica for latte art practicing.

“God damn,” said Betty after another failed attempt at producing anything other than a crooked weed. “You know, this is one of those things that look easy when you watch them on the internet but in reality are impossible to learn. How can you do that?”

Archie chuckled, pouring yet another perfect tulip and setting it on the counter. Betty grabbed her phone to take a photo. Her Instagram account has been overflowing with coffee recently.

“It’s really just a matter of practice,” Archie coached. “You have to, like, kind of push the jug a little… But trust me, you’ll be pouring swans in no time at all.”

“You can make _swans_?!”

“If I focus very hard,” he smirked and turned his head to the door when a bell jingled, announcing a guest. “Oh, hey, Jughead! Long time no see!”

“Hello,” said the newcomer, approaching the counter.

Betty thought he looked pretty normal for downtown New York City standards—ripped jeans, untied combat boots, loose suspenders, a denim jacket and a messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, probably with a laptop inside—but then again, most of his dark wavy hair was covered with the weirdest beanie she’s ever seen, which resembled a knitted crown more than anything else. As a professional, she didn’t let herself lose focus, even though the beanie was rather unhinging, and instead sent a bright smile his way.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“Black, large and bitter, please,” he said, handing her a five dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“This coffee is a symbol of his soul,” added Archie with a straight face.

“What?!” asked Betty sheepishly.

“Archibald here follows a certain philosophy in life,” Jughead explained, tiredness evident in his voice; he clearly needed the caffeine. “He thinks one’s taste in coffee reflects their personality. I tend to be a brooding character, so if I ordered, say, a skim caramel latte, he would take me to a psychiatric hospital.”

“I drink skim caramel latte,” Betty blurted.

“Well, I’m sure you’re delightful. Excuse me.” He took the coffee from Archie, who had almost spilled it, laughing at their exchange.

“Betty,” Archie managed eventually, “this is Jughead, we grew up together. You may recall him, we’d always hang out at school.”

“Oh! No, I don’t remember you!” Betty chirped at Jughead, who’s just sat at a table nearby.

 _What’s up with you today, Cooper?!_ she thought in despair when the sentence escaped her mouth and she realized it might’ve been considered a bit rude. She was normally more eloquent than that. She studied _journalism_ , for crying out loud. Using words was supposed to earn her a living one day.

“I-I mean—”

“It’s okay, I don’t blame you,” said Jughead, who seemed mildly amused by her excess. “I was just as brooding and invisible then as I am now. I hardly received the attention our red-headed guitarist here did.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“Soooo,” Archie started again, evidently enjoying himself. “Tell me, Betty, how’s your internship at the paper going? Writing much?”

“We spoke about it ten minutes ago,” she huffed. “It’s horrific and I don’t want to discuss it any further.”

“I’m only asking because I thought you and your new best friend Jug might just have something in common. You see, for example, he owns a bookstore a few blocks away.”

“I’m also right here, man,” Jughead said.

Archie ignored him; Betty sent Jughead a smile that she hoped was apologetic.

“Anyway, as we’ve just established, you two deal with _words_ on a daily basis.”

At this moment Betty thought defying Archie’s raging fantasies was pointless. So did Jughead, or at least that’s what she saw in his face, so they both just decided to wait and see what point Archie was heading toward.

“I remember you, Betty, mentioned FP Jones a few days ago, right? We had quite a discussion! You said, and this is a direct quote—‘Oooooooh, FP Jones is my second favorite author, right after Toni Morrison! I’d kill to see him live one day.’”

“Terrible impression of me,” Betty murmured.

“Well, as it turns out, it is actually impossible to see him. I’m sure you know this by now, Betty—“

“Ah,” Jughead interjected then. “So that’s what you’re circuitously getting at.”

Betty felt an inexplicable jolt of attraction towards him at the sound of the word ‘circuitously’. She thought about a pile of next week’s articles to edit, which would contain only such adverbs as ‘awesomely’.

“Betty,” Jughead turned to her, “Archie wants you to come with him to a Q&A session with FP Jones next Friday at my bookstore. You’re both welcome. Now excuse me, I truly have a lot of work to do. The coffee is excellent, as always.”

He pulled out his laptop and hid behind it for the rest of the evening. Archie and Betty didn’t get a chance to discuss the matter further until the closing, because a sudden multitude of Spanish tourists entered and they had to focus on not messing up the huge order. Veronica even came out of the office to help them give all the cookies and sandwiches out.

The three of them prepared the café for closing, while making plans for next Friday to go to Jughead’s bookstore. Veronica was the one who introduced Betty to the remarkable works of FP Jones, so she got very excited as well. Betty suspected it had more to do with Archie than the famous author, though.

Jughead was the last guest, but when he realized this fact, he quickly closed and put his laptop away. Before wishing Betty a good night and leaving, he carried his empty cup to the small window where they collected dirty dishes, oblivious to her admiration for this simple gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who can FP Jones be, I wonder... ;)
> 
> I tagged all the characters I'm planning on introducing further on. (Also if Jellybean is not in the 2nd season I'm going to punch something or someone very hard.)
> 
> The story of this fic is that I was looking for a Bughead AU and came upon a 'Coffee Shop AU' idea and thought 'I'm a barista, I can totally do it!!!' so there you go. I did it. I hope at least the coffee bits are believable, I was writing from experience. All the regular customers are REAL. The forty-something dudes are super creepy.
> 
> Title came from literally just googling 'coffee puns'.
> 
> Did you know there's an actual neighborhood in Bronx called Riverdale?


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, DO NOT cross Betty Cooper by going after her second favorite author.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe how motivated I am to write more and more of this story. Like, this has never happened to me before. Today I actually went to my old coffee shop solely to sit and type, Jughead style. Now I'm thinking 4 chapters might not be enough. Sigh.
> 
> Enjoy! :) Thank you for all the comments, they really make my day <3

Betty spend her subway journey home reading ‘The Fourth X’, determined to finish it at least once more before the FP Jones meeting on Friday. She’s never attended one, although she’d heard rumors—apparently, he always sat in a black booth of his own design, and spoke through a voice modulator. She was intrigued, to say the least.

She had a weekend off at the café, but she’d planned on going there anyway with her laptop and finish one last assignment for classes. Unfortunately, just as she escaped the subway and got the cell reception back, Betty received a text that caused her to change plans.

 

_Cara 10:49 pm_

_Rita office 2mrw 8am EXCITING NEW STORY_

 

“Goddamnit,” Betty muttered under her breath.

Rita was her boss, and if Betty understood Cara’s irritating slang correctly, she too was expected to show up at the editorial office first thing in the morning. She reluctantly set up an alarm clock to 6am sharp and headed home.

When she got back, she saw Kevin sleeping on a couch, snoring lightly, a book laying on his stomach. The sound of the door closing caused him to jump up.

“Oh, heeeeeey, Betts,” he said, yawning.

“Hi, Kev.” Betty collapsed next to her roommate on the couch with a heavy sight and glanced at the book he was holding. “Have you finished it yet? There’s a meeting with FP Jones next Friday and I got an invitation.”

Kevin’s eyes widened. “Oh. My. God. I have some serious questions for this literary genius, you have to take me with you.”

“Of course! Archie and Ronnie are coming, too, we can all grab a beer later.”

“Anything happened between them yet? Have some juicy gossip to share with your BFF?”

“Well, V’s not exactly upset Archie’s going to be there,” Betty said, “but, a few days ago, I saw her flirting quite fiercely with _Cheryl_.”

“Yes!” Kevin exclaimed. “Now _that_ I can ship! You don’t like Cheryl that much though, do you?”

Betty shrugged. “She’s fine. Pretty strict, but we get along. As long as V is happy, I’m happy. Anyway, the meeting is going to take place in a bookstore called ‘Metamorphosis’ on Ditmas Avenue.”

“Sounds… intriguing. Who invited you?”

“Oh, Archie’s old friend came by the coffee shop today. You’d like the beanie he wore, by the way. He happens to own the bookstore.”

“Beanie boy, huh? So he _personally knows_ the living legend that is FP Jones?”

“I didn’t really ask…” Betty hesitated. “To be honest, I was preoccupied with making a fool out of myself.”

“Oh?” Kevin grinned.

“It was just an awkward situation,” Betty mumbled. “I may have offended him a little. And he still brought his coffee cup back to the window.”

“He didn’t!” Kevin gasped and clutched his chest in a theatrical gesture. “Invites you to a meeting with your favorite author _and_ returns the cup? Sounds like a keeper.”

“Shut up. I’m turning in, I have to get up at six tomorrow,” Betty groaned. “Rita called a last-minute meeting and all I can think about now is whether to kill her or resign.”

“The latter. You’ve been half happy, half miserable lately, and the second happens only when you get back from the damn office, Betts.”

Betty gave out a frustrated growl and got up from the couch to head to her room. “Fine, Kev, I’ll make you a deal—if nothing interesting happens tomorrow at the meeting, I’ll quit and look for something else, okay?”

“That’s my girl. Now, go dream about that mysterious beanie boy!”

Betty’s goodbye wave turned into the finger, but she cracked a small smile anyway.

 

*

 

Betty was willing to try anything other than mindless editing of moronic material and she couldn’t say she wasn’t at all curious, so on a sunny Saturday morning she headed towards the office filled with a slight amount of hope.

Rita looked very self-satisfied when she presented the new story idea to her employees. She cut to the chase without much introduction.

“I’m sure all of you are aware of the existence of an author called ‘FP Jones’, as he’s been literally everywhere lately.”

Betty’s level of attention increased sharply after that sentence. Rita was not wrong. FP Jones has recently published his third novel, the one Betty was in the middle of re-reading, and critics have been losing their shit over him ever since.

“I intend to take his media coverage to the next level. I want to know a _little something_ about him. We know he’s a New Yorker, born and raised, because he won’t shut up about it. We certainly know he can write a crime novel. But who is he _really_?”

Betty had a bad feeling about the direction Rita was heading for and decided then and there she didn’t want anything to do with it. She’d approach her boss just after the meeting and politely resign from the position. Kevin was right, after all. He’d been skeptical ever since she came back, mentally exhausted, from her first day at the office.

 _Goddamn._ All Betty currently wanted from life were two things—first, for her boss to painfully sprain a joint; second, to attend her favorite writer’s Q &A session on Friday.

(And then maybe also attend a hot make out session with its organizer.)

Was that too much to ask? Did life have to throw all the complications at her?

“I intend to find out, ladies and gentlemen,” Rita continued, her voice getting louder and even more cocky. To Betty’s disgust, some of the gathered journalists began to applaud her. “I want to know his true identity, don’t you? The public deserves to learn the truth about their idol! They deserve to know who exactly they’re supporting with their money!”

Betty tried very hard to recall why she’d accepted the internship in the first place. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Her mother knew the previous editor-in-chief, he would never want or allow this paper and its employees to become so hard-hearted…

“Why is he being so sketchy? What has he got to hide from his faithful fans?!”

“Yeah!” somebody yelled.

Betty looked down at the palms of her hands. On each of them, there were four crescent-shaped scars, barely visible unless one knew what to look for. In the past, when she wasn’t able to escape a situation—and she usually wasn’t, because of her parents’ pathologically high ambitions—it served as an outlet. Betty Copper has since learned to cope in other ways. She was a self-sufficient adult, living in a great big city, a year from acquiring her well-deserved Master’s in journalism, with many successful articles in her portfolio and some dope latte art skills for a good measure. She was confident, fierce when necessary and more than anything else, a true social justice warrior. And exposing a person that didn’t want to be exposed not only did not fit into her moral code, but seemed downright despicable.

And for that reason, when Rita asked if anyone wanted to be a part of the ‘FP Jones unmasking team’, Betty was the first to raise her hand.

 

*

 

_8:16 am_

_I’ve information that may interest your friend Jughead, can you give me his number?_

 

_Archie Andrews 8:16 am_

_You’re lucky I’m me, Ron’d kill you at this hour. Wait a sec_

 

_8:17 am_

_I know, she’s the ultimate night owl_

 

_Archie Andrews 8:19 am_

_+1-202-555-0120 here you go. If you wanna ask him out he likes burgers and old horror movies ;)_

 

_8:19 am_

_I don’t wanna ask him out_

 

_Archie Andrews 8:19 am_

_That was too quick, Cooper!!_

 

_8:20 am_

_What was? Thank you for the number._

 

_Archie Andrews 8:20 am_

_Oh pls ;)_

 

_Archie Andrews 8:22 am_

_He’s kinda awesome, just so you know_

 

_Archie Andrews 8:23 am_

_When you have a bunch of cute articulate babies pls remember I called it first_

 

_Dumb Boy Archie 8:26 am_

_Dibs on being the godfather_

 

*

 

Betty decided not text Jughead right away. Firstly, she needed to pull herself together a bit. An hour after the self-professed matchmaker named Archie sent her Jughead’s number, she managed to get out of the first meeting with her new investigative journalism team. Frustrated, but also highly motivated, she headed to Riverdale to actually fulfill at least one plan for today. She wanted to finish her stupid college assignment and send it already, so it wouldn’t get in her way of unleashing havoc on anybody who tried to screw with FP Jones’ privacy.

Joaquin and Ethel were behind the counter, taking orders from numerous clients. Saturdays tended to be quite busy, so Betty didn’t want to disturb her friends with idle chatter. She just quickly ordered a large skim caramel latte—decaf, because she certainly did not need any more energy this morning—took it to a secluded table and hid behind her laptop.

She finished earlier than she’d anticipated—it took her merely an hour to polish the work and send it to Professor Bloom. She didn’t even have to wait for a response from him to know it was an A+ work. Uncanny was the abundance of inspiration that hit Betty this morning and it greatly helped with rewriting the essay into something that, she had a feeling, was her greatest piece yet.

She then spent some time staring at people, who chatted with one another or worked, companionless, at tables scattered among the café. Making up stories about random strangers gave her a sense of serenity, she often indulged in it even despite dealing with non-fiction on a daily basis—or maybe precisely because of it.

A teenage girl and her mother sat nearby and Betty imagined them to be a pair of world’s best contract killers. And there, a hipster guy with fancy mustache, glued to his Mac screen, typing away a script which would undoubtedly become the next Oscar-winning movie. And by the door, a man with a bizarre hat on his head has just come in and… oh.

Betty felt a weird sensation somewhere about her midsection at the unexpected sight of Jughead, but decided to ignore it and carry on with the feisty frame of mind that has accompanied her since Rita’s baneful speech this morning. Therefore, when he took a cup filled with black liquid from Ethel and looked around to find a free table, Betty stood up and waved to get his attention. He headed towards her with a smirk on his face.

“Elizabeth Cooper,” he said, taking a sit opposite to hers. “What curious information you may have for me, I wonder.”

“Dear God,” Betty grimaced. “Were you with Archie when I—“

“Oh, yes. Arch and I usually have breakfast with his old man on Saturdays. He showed me your entire conversation, just so you know.”

He looked as mildly amused as yesterday, when she humiliated herself in front of him. This time, Betty just rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here because the matter is urgent and dead serious. I happen to work for the most repellent tabloid newspaper in town, and my boss’ next project is to reveal FP Jones’ true identity. I thought you may want to warn him about it.”

Jughead’s expression changed to vaguely alarmed. “Wow. Thank you for telling me, I’ll let him know at once. Although, between you and me, he’s got a lot of experience with covering his tracks. He should be fine.”

“Maybe, but Rita is _ruthless_ ,” Betty stressed. “I volunteered to be a part of her ‘unmasking team’ solely to make sure they don’t actually succeed.”

“Why?” he asked simply.

“Don’t you detest savage reporters prying with other people’s lives? Besides, it so happens we’re talking about my second favorite author. What kind of fan would I be if I just walked, knowing what I know?”

Jughead laughed lightly. “It’s funny how you’re referring to him as your ‘second favorite author’. I’ll make sure to pass it on to him, too.”

“Oh, I actually don’t mind. Nobody’s dethroning Toni Morrison any time soon. Can I ask you—what is he like? As a person?”

“Annoying, mostly,” he offered somewhat reluctantly. “Modesty is not his strong suit, either.”

“Really?” Betty raised her eyebrows. “We’re talking about a guy who’s been hiding his face from the public for the last two years.”

“I mean his personality, not conscious choices. On the other hand, he’s also very smart, he’s generous, he’s… one of those people who instantly make you feel at ease, you know.”

When he said that, Betty realized the same was true about Jughead himself. Yesterday she felt a little intimidated by his presence, but that feeling was now gone, replaced by some kind of odd familiarity with maybe a hint of burgeoning friendship. And Betty didn't ascribe it to her own current scrappiness, but rather to his laid-back demeanor.

"I reckon if I was ever to meet FP Jones in person, my mind would go completely blank and not even his pleasant nature could help me."

A tiny, selfish part of her hoped he'd say something like 'I'll gladly introduce you to him, Betty, I'm sure he'd be delighted to meet you', but Jughead did no such thing. Instead, he changed the subject abruptly, as if he suddenly recalled something.

"Hey, I researched some of your articles, I hope you don't mind."

Despite feeling particularly confident, Betty blushed. "Whenever did you find the time to do that?"

A suspiciously wide grin appeared on Jughead's face. "Archie send some to me yesterday, almost immediately after we talked. I read them sitting here."

Betty's jaw dropped. "That traitor!"

"Help me understand something here, Betty—"

"—why am I a part-time barista and a part-time unpaid intern in the worst tabloid on the planet?" she finished for him. "I don't know. I could find out, if I was able to afford a therapist in this goddamn city," she joked, but he didn’t smile.

"I'm only really asking, because they were the most riveting culinary reviews I've ever read. Have you ever thought about writing fiction?"

The question got her so confused that instead of thanking him for the praise, she said, "Not really, why?"

"Because, how do I say that—they didn’t read like reviews, but like short stories. Almost like flash fiction. I mean it as a compliment."

"Thank you," she managed this time. "That wasn't really a conscious choice, to write in this… style. It just happened on its own, sort of organically.”

He nodded slightly, encouraging her to go on, so Betty continued.

“In my freshman year, I had this phase, I had just moved in with Kevin and I was checking out various restaurants in my new neighborhood, like you would, right? I wrote a couple of reviews, to amuse myself more than anything else. But then I decided to turn it into a project for my classes, and my professor, without me even knowing, sent some of my work to his colleague in The New York Times. They picked it up, I freelanced for them for a while and that's basically the whole story."

“Damn,” Jughead groaned with obvious jealousy. “So NYT paid you to get fancy dinners and write about it? Talk about living the dream.”

“I know,” Betty chuckled. “I saved literally hundreds of dollars on groceries that semester.”

They both winced, when Jughead’s phone suddenly rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this—JB, what’s up? What?”

He listened for a while and then glanced at Betty, apparently disturbed by something ‘JB’ was telling him.

“Hang on a second.” His hand covered the speaker and he stood up. Betty felt strange, as if some kind of a bubble around them burst. “Betty, I’m sorry, but my sister needs help, I have to go.”

“Of course!” she said immediately. “You could ask for, um—Ethel can pour the rest of your coffee to go, if you’d like,” she finished clumsily.

“Text me some time before Friday, okay? I believe you have my number.”

And just like that, he was gone, a half-empty cup left behind on the table.

 

*

 

Shortly after, Betty went home on foot, submerged in thought. She couldn’t really shake the feeling that something went wrong, or at least not as good as it could have, at the end of their conversation. It wasn’t her fault he had to leave so suddenly, she realized that. And he asked her to text him. _Before_ Friday.

Nevertheless, while she wanted to spend the rest of the Saturday plotting out a plan for dealing with the FP Jones situation, Betty wasn’t able to focus on anything other than making a lousy lunch. That was, until she received yet another one of Archie Andrews’ ludicrous messages.

 

_Dumb Boy Archie 2:34 pm_

_Jug’s just texted me to find out if Kevin's your boyfriend. I CALLED IT BETTY, REMEMBER I CALLED IT._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a scene in Riverdale where Veronica brings Betty her coffee order and says it out loud, but I couldn’t find it, does anybody know which episode it's in? I remember it was skim latte something, not sure if it was caramel. Heeeeelp.
> 
> I just love writing ridiculous!Archie. What can I say, he’s the biggest and silliest Bughead shipper, bigger and sillier than any of us.
> 
> The bookstore is named after Kafka’s short story, which you should read if you haven’t. It’s one of the books on Jughead’s pile shown at the beginning of the 7th episode. Has some taste, this boy.
> 
> Harry Potter references, yay <3
> 
> I love notes. There will always be a lot of notes.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica wins at life. Betty's 'unmasking team' turns out to be kind of awesome after all. And a strange last name comes into the picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo! There REALLY will be a slightly longer break now, I have a plane to catch in the morning and then my life is going to be pure chaos for a while.
> 
> Enjoy and tell me what you think in the comments ;)

On Sunday, Veronica decided to leave management to Joaquin, against her better judgment, as she later confessed to Betty and Kevin in their apartment. Joaquin was nothing if not a professional, so she really didn’t have anything to worry about, but still leaving her ‘baby’, as she now referred to the café, gave her chills. Even if it was just for one day. When Kevin once said she should just move in there, because she virtually spent most of her life in Riverdale anyway, Veronica seriously considered it and he had to explain he meant it as a joke.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Veronica was speaking to Joaquin on a phone, pacing around Betty’s room. “Betty and I can drop by real quick if you guys—oh. Yeah, okay. Right, I’m bothering you when you should be working, sorry. But check in with me later oka—he hung up on me, can you believe that?!” she complained to Betty and Kevin, who were sitting on Betty’s queen bed, simultaneously painting each other’s toenails.

“No, we absolutely cannot,” Kevin said.

“I am sensing sarcasm in your voice, Keller!” Veronica exclaimed. “My baby is all alone there and you two don’t care!”

“Relaaaaaaax,” Betty urged, pouring some more pink wine into a glass and handing it to her friend. “It’s not alone, it’s in Joaquin’s experienced hands. I’m not going anywhere, by the way, right now I wouldn’t be able to make a latte if my life depended on it,” she giggled, taking a sip from her own glass.

“Someone’s in a particularly good mood,” Kevin observed. “Is this because of the mysterious beanie boy?” he teased.

“Ah, yes” Ronnie said, also taking a sit on the bed. “The very reason why Arch is currently considering pursuing a career as a matchmaker. Spill, B.”

“There’s nothing _to_ spill, V!” she protested. “His name is Jughead and we just talked once.”

“Jug-head?” Kevin repeated.

“Okay, yeah, I believe you,” Veronica grinned at Betty. “I heard he read all of your NYT articles and absolutely loved them. And let’s not forget he asked you to come to the meeting with your favorite writer.”

“Second favorite,” Betty corrected angrily.

“In my books, that practically constitutes a date,” finished Veronica, very pleased with herself.

“You both are going to be there! And Archie, that dumb boy. Can we please change the subject? I’d rather tell you about my boss’ vicious new project.”

“Fine, but we want to hear every single detail once you two actually _do_ go on a date,” Kevin said and Veronica nodded eagerly. “Now, what has Skeeter cooked up this time?”

Betty told them everything about Rita’s new team and her desire to sabotage any potential development of the investigation.

“Let me get this straight,” Veronica started, the smirk on her face indicating she hasn’t yet let the subject of Jughead go. “You basically volunteered to protect your new boyfriend’s friend, right? Does it appear this way to you too, Kev?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why aren’t we talking about something that actually exists, like your own interesting love life, Ronnie?” Betty asked. “You’re dating one of your _employees_ and hitting on another!”

“If you mean Archie and Cheryl, I am actually dating both of them,” Veronica admitted, not only unembarrassed, but clearly proud of herself.

“What?!” Betty and Kevin shouted simultaneously, Kevin additionally spilling a bit of wine on his shirt.

Veronica laughed playfully. “Yes. And they’re fine with it. So in a way you’re right, B, my love life _is_ very interesting. What can I say, I have a soft spot for hot gingers. And while we’re on the subject of my amazing barista crew, Betty, there’s a food truck fiesta during the weekend in Central Park and I want Riverdale to be a part of it. I’ve purchased a truck that’s currently getting adapted properly.”

“That’s great, V!”

“Definitely a good way to acquire new customers,” Kevin added. “A small trip to Central Park this weekend, then.”

“I thought you were going to work,” Betty said. “You’ve been complaining about it for the past week.”

“I am, but… hopefully Joaquin is going to be there and you both know I look hot as hell in my uniform.”

“A classic ‘coffee and donuts’ seduction technique, yes!” Betty chuckled.

“Veronica Lodge very much approves! See, B, that’s how you do it. Wear a cop uniform and Jughead will jump into your bed in no time.”

Kevin burst out laughing at her words and they high fived.

“Oh, shut your faces already,” Betty said, rolling her eyes and finishing her glass of wine in one large gulp.

 

*

 

Sundays were usually Jughead’s days off—Jellybean took care of ‘Metamorphosis’ for the couple of hours it was opened, he had no classes to teach and usually even opted against writing anything, simply to reset his mind. He went for long walks with Hot Dog, searched for new restaurants to add to his regularly updated foodie list and watched old horrors. This time, however, he had a debate with his stubborn sister to win, so he stayed at the bookstore. They re-arranged some books while arguing.

“For the millionth time, JB, we cannot host a couple thousand people here. You shouldn’t have put it on Facebook in the first place!”

“Yeah, well, maybe FP Jones shouldn’t’ve written such a popular book, huh? _This_ ,” she held a copy of ‘The Fourth X’ in front of Jughead’s face, her hand shaking a little, “is the cause of all our problems now, not stupid Facebook. At least we know that the demand is huge. Besides, people check in at events all the time and then they never show up!”

“There has to be another way,” he pleaded. “We agreed it wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

“Jug, we’re talking about an NYT bestselling author. It hasn’t got a slightest chance of being quiet, you dummy. It’s gonna be on all over the Internet and then all the front pages, and not only in New York City, but the entire fucking country.”

Jughead groaned. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It just seems so unnecessary and… wrong.”

Jellybean sighed, setting a pile of ‘The Fourth X’s aside and approaching her brother to pat him on the shoulder reassuringly. “I know, Juggy. But we’re balancing on the edge here. It’s impossible to pull something like that off forever, not in this city.”

She shivered and Jughead figured she thought about yesterday’s swarm of paparazzi he had to rescue her from. It wasn’t the first time they caught their scent. FP Jones’ meetings always took place in their bookstore so even less clever reporters knew they had some connection to him. However, he’s never been more famous than after publishing ‘The Fourth X’, which attracted more and more hyenas. Betty herself was trying to sabotage some of them, for which he was grateful, but there were more tabloids in town and he realized he wouldn’t be able to fight them all off eventually.

”Come on, look at the bright side,” Jellybean tried. “We can get rid of that hideous black box, and the bookstore is gonna become some kind of a cult place, for sure. Maybe we can hire someone at last. And think of all the exciting interviews and meetings!”

He looked at her, squinting his eyes a little. “Jelly,” he said slowly. “Don’t let it go in your head, but you’re an actual genius.”

There _was_ another way, and a plan to pull it off started forming in his mind. He needed just three things: a bribe, a good journalist and a right venue.

 

*

 

_3:03 pm_

_Can you give me Betty’s number? She has mine, but I need to contact her asap_

 

_Archie 3:05 pm_

_You guys are the cutest +1-347-391-3558_

 

_Archie 3:05 pm_

_I caaaaaaaalled ittttttt_

 

*

 

Later that day, Betty regretted their around-noon wine drinking, because at 3 pm she got a message from Rita. Her team was to immediately prepare an initiatory article about FP Jones and his connections to the ‘Metamorphosis’ bookstore, to be published in the evening on the paper’s website and on Monday morning in print. Because of the short notice, Betty and the rest of the team—Cara and Abe, decided to co-work from their homes, mainly via Facebook. Abe was the lead author, so fortunately the heaviest work was his to do. Betty and Cara were supposed to help shape the story.

With repulsion, Betty browsed through the photos sent to them by one of Rita’s favorite paparazzi, which were supposed to compliment the story. Most of them featured a half-frightened, half-furious dark haired girl in her early twenties, wearing a baseball cap, waving her hands in evident rage in front of ‘Metamorphosis’. Betty figured that it must have been JB and that she was looking at the very reason Jughead left so abruptly the previous day. He was on some of the pictures, too, also angry but with restrain showing on his face, urging JB to get back inside the store.

Cara was first to comment on the photos, and her opinion pleasantly surprised Betty.

 

_Cara 3:24 pm_

_its safe to say rita’s f-ing crazy af_

_B, you have 2 know this used 2b a NEWSpaper_

_not gossipy shit ruining folks lives_

_look at this poor girl, what is she like 20_

_wanted 2 give rita a chance but this went too far_

_Abe u have 2 admit that its not right_

 

_Abe 3:27 pm_

_Maybe. But what are we supposed to do?_

_I know it’s cliché, but the job pays my bills. I cannot afford sentiment._

 

_Cara 3:27 pm_

_besides old fp is impossible to catch, i dont know what rita expects_

 

_3:28 pm_

_I absolutely agree with Cara. I didn’t agree to any of this when I accepted the internship._

_Can we, say, play it safe for a while? Write something that’ll satisfy Rita’s bloodthirst, but not expose FP Jones or the bookstore owners too much?_

 

_Cara 3:29 pm_

_Ive sth else in mind_

_Abe would u mind going behind crazy ritas back just this once?_

 

_Abe 3:29 pm_

_That depends on how high a chance she’d have of finding out we screwed with her precious story._

 

_Cara 3:30 pm_

_have u met me? Im savage af if sb makes the mistake of crossing me_

_she wont EVER know ok?_

_u have my word_

 

_3:31 pm_

_What’s the idea?_

 

_Cara 3:31 pm_

_to reason with the owners_

_writng a story about them but w/ their knowledge & approval_

 

_3:32 pm_

_I volunteer to contact them right away. We’ve got to have something for tomorrow, though._

 

_Abe 3:32 pm_

_Leave it to me, I’ll send you a draft in an hour. Cara, you choose photos, the mildest we can afford. B, reach out to the owners._

 

_3:32 pm_

_Got it._

 

_Cara 3:33 pm_

_yasssssss Ive a gr8 feeling bout this_

_epic collaboration is epic_

_fuck rita and her shitty morals_

 

Betty, feeling like a heavy weight got lifted off of her shoulders, reached for her phone to text Jughead, but at the exact moment she grabbed it, his number popped up at the screen. He was calling.

“Impossible timing,” she muttered to herself, and then louder into the speaker, “hello?”

“Hey, Elizabeth Cooper. It’s Jughead.”

“Yes, I know—hi, wh-what’s up?”

_Stutter some more, Cooper._

”I have a serious business proposition for you,” he quickly cut to the chase. “Do you have any experience in conducting interviews?”

“Unless you want to count some high school projects, no. Why?” she asked, but her heart started racing. He meant FP Jones. He _had to_ be talking about a potential interview with FP Jones.

“Well, it doesn't really matter that you don't. Would you—damn, I hate speaking on the phone,” he suddenly said.

“Yeah, so do I,” Betty admitted.

“It’s just weird not to be able to… see you.” They were both quiet for a moment, but then he cleared his throat and said, “So, would you come by the bookstore tomorrow afternoon?”

“Let me check the café timetable, okay?” She reached for her laptop and opened a file with Riverdale's schedule. “Yes, I’ve a shift until 2:30 pm, so I could come around 4? Maybe a little earlier.”

“That’s perfect. See you tomorrow, then.”

“See y—wait! Wait, don’t hang up. I was just about to text you when you called, because… There will be an article about FP Jones on my paper’s website today, and tomorrow in print. I’m trying to make it as minor as possible, and fortunately my colleagues are not that keen on exposing FP, either. We’re kind of trying to screw our chief editor over and not be fired in the process.”

“I’m guessing one of those paparazzi was yours, then?” he asked.

“Yes,” Betty reluctantly admitted. “We’ll try to chose some middle-of-the-road photos, enough to satisfy my boss and not expose you guys.”

“Thank you, Betty, I really appreciate what you’re doing. Your snapper wasn’t the only one, though, so tomorrow I’m expecting to see my pretty face all over the newsstands. I’m just sorry it won’t be only my face, but also Jellybean’s.”

“Whose?” Betty asked, confused. “Oh, JB! Your sister, um—are these your real names?”

He laughed softly. “I can show you our IDs tomorrow as a proof, but they say ‘Jughead Frederick Fitzroy’ and ‘Jellybean Harper Fitzroy’.”

 _The Fitzroys._ “I still have to see it.”

“Sure. I really have to go now, Betty. It was a pleasure to talk to you. Thank you for—you know, standing with us. With FP. I don’t want to overstep, but you really should resign once this is over. You wrote for the New York Times, for heaven’s sake. Take care, okay?”

For a fraction of a second, she felt a desire to shout something like ‘FYI, Kevin is my gay roommate and I’m very very _very_ single at the moment’, just so he could hear this from her and not dumb Archie. Eventually, she just whispered, “Okay. Bye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! Fitzroy translates into 'son of the king', I'll leave you to contemplate it.
> 
> Brace yourselves for some epic Betty/Jellybean bonding next chapter. At least I hope it's gonna turn out epic, I haven't written it yet.
> 
> Gotta love Cara, right?
> 
> There's not much coffee shop in this coffee shop AU, I realize. But who cares about that when you have morning wine-drinking and slightly awkward phone conversations. The next chapter starts in Riverdale, though.


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burgers, curry and THE BIG REVEAL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan on including the last scene in this chapter, rather at the beginning of the next one, but here you go! As an apology for the long wait ;)
> 
> I concluded there should be 6 chapters in total. Probably. Most likely. But you know how it is.
> 
> Enjoy and thank you for the amazing comments! <3

Next day, Betty got up early and chose her outfit a little more studiously than on most Mondays. She put on a pair of light blue jeans, a loose white top, a navy blazer on top of that and cute bow flats. She also wore her favorite silver key necklace and bow earrings, checked herself out in the mirror about ten times and then went out to the nearest newsstand.

It wasn’t all that bad. First and foremost, their story didn’t make it to the front page, but instead got printed on half of the fifth, which was fortunately terrible. Cara chose two slightly blurred photos, which she argued added some dramatic effect. Rita not only bought that, but eventually approved Abe’s quite equable fourth draft, after he managed to talk her out of using the phrase ‘family of hat-wearing lunatics’. Betty felt a satisfaction that only a job well done could give and texted Jughead.

 

_7:42 am_

_Seen the papers yet?_

 

_Jughead Frederick Fitzroy 7:43 am_

_Got up early to buy some. I feel somewhat disappointed in contemporary tabloid journalists and their utter lack of desire to put my pretty face on any cover._

 

Betty browsed through other newspapers, but each and every one of them, including her own, decided to lead with a story of two local celebs caught exiting the Plaza Hotel together last night. It was apparently a big deal, because they had been rumored to be a couple for some time now. Betty imagined Rita’s head must’ve exploded with excitement when she learned about it. The good news was, it might cause her to lay off the FP story for a while.

 

_Jughead Frederick Fitzroy 7:43 am_

_The relief is in fact immense. I hope we’re still up for today? I’m preparing a bribe for you._

 

_7:44 am_

_Yes, we are. Intriguing, Jughead Fitzroy._

 

 _J_ _ughead Frederick Fitzroy 7:44 am_

_See you, then. Thank god for the celebs hooking up yesterday!_

 

_7:44 am_

_Once again, sex saves the day._

 

Betty regretted sending it almost immediately, but he only answered with two winky faces. He didn’t seem like he’d use emojis that often, so she headed towards Riverdale with a light heart and a slight blush on her face.

She spent a busy, but really fun shift with Joaquin and Cheryl, both of whom couldn’t believe how sharp her latte art skills were this morning.

“God damn,” Cheryl said when Betty poured a huge, perfectly symmetrical rosetta in a takeaway cup. “Way to go, Smurfette.”

“Thank you!” she chirped at the red-haired barista, who rolled her eyes but also half-smiled back. “I will even forgive you for calling me Smurfette, this time.”

They’ve been getting along fine, which Betty ascribed to Veronica’s miraculous people skills rather than her own or Cheryl’s good will.

Betty’s mood got even better when Joaquin chatted her up about Kevin. She told him they could meet in person on the weekend, because Kevin was planning on visiting the new truck during Central Park’s fiesta.

“Ah, yes, our precious manager is preparing the car at the moment,” Joaquin said, his tone indicating that he was in fact very fond of Veronica. “Very cool idea. Previous owner didn’t give a shit about such things, I think he was just too old to keep up with latest trends. Anyway, tell Kevin I’ll make him a mean flat white,” he winked at Betty.

“With a heart, I hope,” she giggled. “I have a feeling you two are going to get along great.”

And her cheerfulness couldn’t even be crushed by the one and only dumb boy, who visited them by the end of Betty’s shift, claiming he just came by for lunch and coffee on his free day. His smirk indicated something else entirely.

“Bettyyy. I hear you have a hot date tonight,” he said almost casually while waiting for his order, which Betty was preparing. “Jug tells me everything. Well, no, but he tells Jellybean and I’m paying her in candy to be my spy, so.”

“Archieee,” she answered with the sweetest smile she could muster. “I hear you should stop sticking your freckled nose into other people’s business.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he mockingly threatened her with a finger. “That may be the general rule, but you’re forgetting that Jug’s my blood brother, so if you’re planning something, I must give you the customary speech. Like, you know, I’ll kill you if you break his poor heart and so on.”

“When you say _blood brother_ , do you mean you cut your hands when you were six and shook them or is it just a figure of speech?“

“We were five,” he grinned.

“Okay. Message received,” Betty sighed. “Salmon sandwich and a soy mocha with double whipped cream. You know the cream is still a dairy product, right?”

“I’m full of contradictions,” he shrugged and turned to Cheryl. “See you tonight, Cher?”

She sent him a kiss and a seductive wink. Betty stifled a happy laugh. She realized that regardless of all their quirks, irritatingly perfect haircuts and long freckled noses, at some point they somehow managed to become her virtual New York family.

 

*

 

Betty Cooper was nothing if not thoughtful, so seeing that she still had plenty of time after work, she picked up a couple of vegan burgers for lunch. Strictly because the place was on her way to Jughead’s. And she reviewed it 5 for 5 in NYT once, so they gave her massive discounts. It certainly had nothing to do with the text she received from Archie on Saturday. _If you wanna ask him out he likes burgers and old horror movies ;) …_ Nope.

It was 3:30 pm when she got off the bus that took her to Ditmas Avenue in Brooklyn. It was a nice, residential neighborhood. ‘Metamorphosis’ occupied the ground floor of a small brick terrace house. In Betty’s opinion, however odd the place was for a bookstore, it somehow worked really well. She saw it yesterday on the photos, but it was even more charming in reality—two rickety, filled to the brim bookcases stood on the both sides of the entrance, surrounded by a whole lot of various potted plants and guarded by a single, although very fierce-looking gnome. The front yard was a bit weedy, but it only added to the nonchalantly magical atmosphere the Fitzroys managed to achieve here.

A bell jingled upon her entrance. The inside looked much more tidy than the outside, just like a standard bookstore with lots of bookcases and displayed stacks of brand-new positions. Some song that Betty knew, although couldn’t quite pinpoint, was playing loudly.

“Hello?” Betty tried, because there was nobody in sight.

A skinny girl with a dark-grey fedora hat on her head walked out of a back room. “Oh, didn’t Gnoah scare you away? That’s Gnoah with a ‘G’.”

“What?” Betty breathed. “Um—I’m looking for Jughead. You must be Jellybean. And that’s Josie and the Pussycats,” she pointed at nothing in particular, meaning the song.

Jellybean’s eyes widened, and then a huge smile slowly crept onto her face. “If it isn’t Elizabeth Cooper, my beloved brother’s fresh infatuation.”

Betty didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just abashed slightly.

“And also, obviously,” Jellybean went on, “my new best friend! We should totally go to Josie’s concert together some time. Come on, let’s sit down and become instant buddies. There’s not many customers on Mondays anyway, and Gnoah scares the rest away.”

Jellybean sat on a staircase leading upstairs and gestured Betty to a couple of shabby armchairs nearby.

“Well,” Betty said, slightly stunned by her immediacy but glad nonetheless—she quite liked direct people. “Firstly, I brought burgers. I wasn’t expecting to see you, so there are just two,” she added apologetically.

“Is it too early to tell you that I love you?” asked Jellybean, sniffing the inside of the packet Betty brought. “Jug won’t mind, he’s supposed to bring something, too.”

“Where is he?” Betty asked in a casual, she hoped, way. “Help yourself, I’m not that hungry.”

“Thanks,” Jellybean grinned and gnawed at a burger, which did not interfere with her speaking. “He said something about going to Staten Island to pick some book up. He should be back shortly. Anyway, you said ’Firstly, I brought burgers’, what’s secondly?”

“Oh, right. Secondly, I can get you VIP tickets to one of Josie’s concerts, if you’d like.”

Jellybean choked on the burger and put it away. “W-what are you saying, mate?”

“Yeah, I went to school with her,” Betty explained. “We stayed in touch. I can introduce you to the band, if you want.”

“What the actual—dude. _Dude_. Do you realize how much that would—“ she trailed off. “Thank you,” she mumbled eventually. “Damn, no wonder Jug likes you so much. Oh, stop blushing already. You’re allowed to be attracted to people, you know. He’s also so weird about it, I had to talk to that dumb boy Archie to get some information on you.”

“Wow,” Betty chuckled nervously. “You people just won’t leave us alone.”

“No, I guess not,” Jellybean admitted with a smirk and picked her burger up to finish it. “Good thing there’s an ‘us’, though. Will you tell me more about Josie? The Pussycats are my favorite bloody band ever. Wait, scratch that. My second favorite, right after Pink Floyd.”

“Oh, second favorites are the best,” Betty grinned.

When Jughead entered twenty minutes later, both burgers were located securely in Jellybean’s belly, and the girls were discussing best names for garden gnomes, laughing madly.

“Actually, it was Jug who suggested the silent ‘G’,” Jellybean managed, wiping happy tears from her cheeks. “Gnoah, I swear… Oooh, Jug!” she spotted him finally. “Speak of the devil. Where’s lunch, big brother?”

“You’ve just eaten two burgers!” Betty pointed out, giggling.

“Yeah, and that means you ate none. And honestly, I wouldn’t say no to another.”

“Hey… guys,” Jughead said slowly, observing his sister and Betty with squinted eyes. “It’s like I skipped a TV series episode and now I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Instant best friends happened,” Jellybean explained matter-of-factly. “Betty knows Josie and the Pussycats! We’re going to their concert, aren’t we, Betts?”

“Yep,” Betty confirmed happily. “VIP tickets!”

“Okay,” Jughead shrugged. “In the meantime, Betty, would you care for a lunch out?”

“Can I come or am I very much unwelcome to this date?” Jellybean asked with a smirk.

“You’re very much unwelcome, because someone has to take care of the bookstore, JB,” he responded immediately. “Betty?”

“Can I choose a place?”

“I don’t know what would possibly give you the right to do it. Maybe if you wrote restaurant reviews for the NYT…” he sighed dramatically and she laughed.

When they headed towards the door, Jellybean suddenly grew serious and said, “Jug… a word?”

“I’ll wait outside,” said Betty.

“What is it?” Jughead asked quietly, when the door closed after her.

For a few seconds, Jellybean chewed her bottom lip as if struggling to speak up. “Fine. Tell her. Let’s meet tomorrow in Riverdale. I’ll arrange the studio.”

He half-smiled, removed the fedora from his sister’s head, kissed her forehead and said, “Okay.”

He replaced the hat and left.

 

*

 

She took him to a casual dining Indian restaurant for the best curry in Brooklyn. The manager took it upon himself to squeeze them in without reservation, because, well, she was Elizabeth Cooper, and the restaurant wouldn’t have won multiple culinary awards if it wasn’t for her enthusiastic reviews.

“Do you know _every_ restaurateur in New York?” Jughead asked when they waited for a table at the bar, savoring rosewater lassis.

“Nah… only about two thirds,” Betty said happily, which made him chuckle.

While eating, they mainly discussed the amazing food, which really was an endless conversation topic. If Betty was to be honest, though, she felt slightly awkward the whole time, mainly because she didn’t how to address their phone conversation from the previous day and it bugged her. She expected _him_ to bring the subject up. After all, he had a ‘serious business proposition’ for her. But instead, he just asked further questions about Betty’s work for the NYT and then he told her about his secret foodie list of restaurants.

“It certainly needs another update now,” he said when they finished, patting his stomach. “I’ve always wanted to eat here, but it’s crazy difficult to book a table.”

“Which is why I love being me,” Betty grinned.

They split the heavily discounted bill in half, left a generous tip and, at Jughead’s request, strolled towards Prospect Park. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, one of those perfect days with the sky only partially covered with clouds, so it was neither too hot, nor too cold, and for some time they just walked in companionable silence. Betty didn’t mind, in fact she was a fan of people who didn’t feel the constant need to blather about nothing, but his reluctance to speak up about whatever it was he wanted to ask her started to bother her at some point. She was just about to say something, when he finally spoke.

“Betty, um—“ he hesitated. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Yes, the serious business proposition, right?” Betty asked blithely, like she hasn’t just been racking her brain over it.

They’ve just reached a lake and stopped to look at waterfowl squawking in a distance. Jughead grasped the railing with both hands and breathed, “Oh, right. Yeah. Let’s talk about that.”

“Well?” Betty urged. “Does this—Jughead, does it have anything to do with FP Jones?”

He took a look at her and slowly said, “I would like you to meet him.”

Betty’s heart skipped a beat. She squeezed the key necklace in her hand and bit her lower lip.

“He’s… tired, you know. Of hiding. He can’t do it anymore. So, he’s been searching for someone trustworthy to conduct an unveiling interview.”

“You’re not saying…” Betty whispered. “Jughead, I have no experience. Besides, I think I told you that, I’d be so stressed in his presence I wouldn’t be able to say a word, let alone _interview_ him!”

He half-smiled at her and opened his messenger bag. He reached inside and pulled out a rectangular package wrapped in the most adorable paper Betty’s ever seen. It was decorated with tiny drawings of steaming coffee cups, brown hearts and writings of ‘words cannot espresso how much you bean to me’.

“I figured you might be reluctant. This is the bribe I mentioned. Let’s just arrange a meeting tomorrow and when you two meet, you’ll make your final decision, okay?”

Betty considered it for five seconds, and then nodded.

“Okay.” He smiled, this time fully. “Well, open it already!”

“I kind of don’t want to, the wrapping paper is too pretty,” she joked, but carefully ripped the package.

When she flipped the cover of the book that was inside opened, she had to forcefully grip his shoulder in order not to stagger. “ _Juggy..._ Can I make my decision now? I’ll do it.”

What she wanted to add was, _I’d fucking do anything for you right now, you stupid boy in your ridiculous hat._

“Good. I’m glad. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

During the way to her apartment, Betty's left hand somehow intertwined with Jughead's right. In the other, she held a copy of Toni Morrison’s ‘Beloved’—first edition, autographed.

 

*

 

She had to drink a lot of herbal tea and take some pills to actually fall asleep that night, and still in the morning she put on more make up than she normally did, in order to disguise the bags under her eyes. She had to ask sleepy, yawning Kevin to pick out her outfit, because all she could do was pace around her room nervously. He chose a red wine-colored semi-formal dress, which she put on quickly and left for Riverdale without eating breakfast. It resulted with her being there half an hour too early.

“Take it easy, Betty,” Archie told her, preparing a decaf caramel latte, while she walked alongside the counter, back and forth. “It’ll be alright. You’ll be amazing.”

“Actually, Archie,” she began, suddenly hitting upon an idea, “I’ve never thought to ask you, but do you know who FP Jones is? I mean, you have to, being blood brothers with Jughead and everything, right?”

“Yes,” he reluctantly admitted, handing her the cup, “I do, and trust me, it is not an easy secret to keep. I’m happy you’ll be in on it, too.”

“Good thing he wants to reveal himself then, huh? Thanks.”

She sat at a secluded table and once more went over the prepared questions. She didn’t even touch her coffee.

About twenty minutes later, when Betty was in the middle of checking if her recording device worked properly, the door opened and Jughead and Jellybean entered. He wore his usual crown-shaped beanie and she switched to a black headband this time. Betty stood up when they approached her.

“Hey,” she rasped, her throat tight. “JB, I didn’t expect you to come.”

The siblings glanced at one another and Jellybean said, “Hello, Betty. Let’s get it over with, shall we? I— _we_ apologize in advance. That it had to… play out like this.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jughead cleared his throat. “Betty, um—this is my sister, you know her as Jellybean, but her real name is Forsythia Paloma Jones.”

“And,” Jellybean added, “this is my brother, whom you know as Jughead. His real name is Forsythe Pendleton Jones.”

For what seemed like eternity, Betty looked at each of them in turn, silent.

_No, no, **no**. They were the Fitzroys. He said they were the Fitzroys and not… not the fucking… Joneses. _

“Our parents were weird, but not as weird as to actually name us Jellybean and Jughead,” he added apologetically. “I’m sorry I had to lie to you.”

“What are you—what the hell are you saying?” Betty whispered. “Is FP Jones coming?”

Jellybean sighed heavily. “Betty. _We_ are FP Jones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone saw it coming? Mwahaha!
> 
> Disclaimer: all my knowledge about New York's topography comes from the internet (meaning, I actually know nothing about it).
> 
> As far as I know, Jellybean's middle name is just revealed as P., so I named her after Paloma Faith, because I'm a fan.
> 
> In case I don't manage to include it in the actual story, just so you know: Jughead's fake middle name comes from Frederick Forsyth and Jellybean's from Harper Lee.


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! There should be one more chapter left. Possibly two, but it'll turn out in the process.
> 
> Enjoy and thank you for each and every one of your comments, they really make my day <3 I CANNOT ESPRESSO HOW MUCH THEY BEAN TO ME, if you will.

Betty fell into a kind of trance for the rest of the day. She pushed all the emotions raging inside of her aside, managed not to clench her fists too hard, and instead forced herself to be indifferent.

Jellybean started explaining what they wanted her to do—that there was a studio rented for a couple of hours and they could all go there and record a podcast, which would then be edited by Jellybean and put online on Facebook, on the Friday’s event page.

“Of course, the event is changing its place now,” Jellybean informed Betty. “We need a bigger venue, the bookstore would get crushed. Not to mention poor Gnoah.”

She was the one speaking, because Jughead for some reason refused to comment, only occasionally nodding. At least he had the decency to look ashamed, fiddling nervously with his fingers, with his head lowered.

“This idiot was supposed to tell you all of this yesterday, but he chickened out,” Jellybean scoffed. “So here we are, wasting time on idle chatter when there’s a perfectly good recording studio waiting in Manhattan.”

“Let’s go there,” Betty managed to say, a little louder than intended.

“You’re still in?” Jughead asked quietly.

“Of course I’m still in,” she spat. “I’m a professional. I promised, didn’t I?”

She stood up and, feeling Archie’s pitying look on her back, headed for the door. When it closed behind her, for a split second she thought she might break down, then and there. Instead, she just screamed into her hand once, the muffled sound somehow helping her keep it together.

 

*

 

The next few hours were a blur.

The studio was amazing, though. The interview went smoothly. Jellybean thanked her over and over again and said she was awesome, Jughead tried to get her alone and say something, apologize or maybe not, maybe he didn’t feel like he should, she didn’t care.

(She did, she cared _so much_ , but she couldn’t deal with it right now.)

Betty just wanted to get out of there. She had a few things to take care of as soon as possible. Jellybean promised to send her the edited file in the evening, for a final approval. Betty nodded and left without another word.

 

*

 

Rita was slightly disappointed.

“This is a shame,” she said sternly, when Betty handed her the resignation. “Your story was… something. Could’ve been even better if you didn’t try to screw with it.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “You… know?”

“Elizabeth, please” she sighed. “I’m not new to this game. Choosing blurred photos for dramatic effect, what a ludicrous idea.”

Betty opened her mouth to speak, but Rita shushed her with a gesture and went on, “I realize not everyone shares my passion for revealing the truth, whatever it might be or however it might… tinker with people’s lives. Cara and Abe will be fine, you have my word. There’s an abundance of gossip in this town, my dear. One story ends, another begins.”

 _Oh, yes,_ Betty thought. _A story is about to blow up tomorrow and you had nothing to do with it, old witch._

“Well, thank you,” she said. “All in all, it was an… illuminating experience.”

“You’re welcome, dear. You know where the door is.”

 

*

 

After that, she sat on a bench in Central Park for a couple of hours, trying to figure out what it was exactly that she was feeling. Anger? Disappointment? A strange mixture of these two with an addition of something harder to identify? Had she even got any right to feel like this? She ended up just staring into distance, more confused than ever. When the afternoon faded into the evening, she switched her phone back on.

 

_Dumb Boy Archie 12:45 pm_

_Betty, everything ok? Shocking, right? :P_

 

_Dumb Boy Archie 12:46 pm_

_Sorry. They meant well tho_

 

_Ronnie 2:32 pm_

_B, are you ok? Arch told me. Pls text or call asap_

 

_Alice 4:04 pm_

_Elizabeth, why can’t I reach you? Switch your phone on immediately._

 

_Alice 4:10 pm_

_Elizabeth, I just want to know where the genius idea of quitting your job came from._

 

_Kevin 4:32 pm_

_How did it go? WHO is he? Can’t wait to find out!_

 

_Ronnie 7:13 pm_

_B, please. You can always come by my place. I’m having pizza for dinner_

 

She answered her mother.

 

_8:05 pm_

_I wasn’t a job, mom. They weren’t paying me._

 

Praying for her mother not to call after such a sassy text, Betty headed to Upper East Side.

 

*

 

By the time she reached Veronica’s apartment, she got very close to breaking. The weird trance state she’s been in since the morning faded, and when Ronnie opened the door, dressed in a posh purple bathrobe, Betty finally lost it and burst out crying.

“Oh, honey,” Veronica whispered, hugging her best friend tightly. “We were so worried about you! Come inside, I’ll make you some hot chocolate. With the top entirely covered in tiny marshmallows, yes?”

Betty nodded, sniffling loudly.

Ten minutes later she found herself sitting on Veronica’s enormous four-poster bed, wearing borrowed silk pajamas, wrapped up in a fluffy pink blanket, with a huge mug in her hands, surrounded by friends. Archie sat in the corner of the room, playing his guitar to soothe her. Cheryl laid on the bed, stroking Betty’s calf reassuringly.

Veronica got onto the bed as well and said, “Take your time, B, and tell us everything from the beginning, okay?”

And so Betty did, starting with Friday. Even though it was now Tuesday, so much happened in the past few days that it seemed like her and Jughead’s first meeting took place ages ago.

“I don’t even know if I have a right to be angry at him,” she whispered at the end, admitting to the one thing that bugged her the most. “He didn’t do anything wrong, I think he was mostly just trying to protect his sister.”

“Don’t justify this idiot’s behavior,” said Archie. He was still playing a quiet melody on his guitar, but looked like he wanted to punch something.

“You wouldn’t be sitting here crying, Betty, if you didn’t think he screwed up,” Cheryl said matter-of-factly. “Although… I don’t want to overstep here or hurt you, for that matter, but none of this would have happened if you two hadn’t dilly-dally around each other like a couple of silly ferrets.”

“Cheryl!” yelled Archie and Veronica at the same time.

“No,” Betty murmured. “You’re right. But we did, we—well, we held hands.” She blushed after saying that. “Yesterday, when he walked me back to my apartment. And we didn’t talk about it, it just happened and then we said goodbye and he was gone.”

Veronica sighed and opened her mouth to say something, but then Betty’s phone jingled loudly. She read the message and took a deep breath.

“That was fast. JB sent me the edited podcast. Would you—listen to it with me?”

Veronica hugged her. “Of course we will, B.”

 

*

 

Later that night, Betty laid on an obscenely comfortable bed in Veronica’s guest bedroom, fragments of the interview playing in her head over and over. It wasn’t more than half an hour of casual conversation and she was still in awe of herself and how she actually managed to pull that off.

_…welcome everyone, welcome the current FP Jones fans and those who are going to inevitably become ones after reading FP’s novels. On a beautiful Tuesday in New York City, I am joined by the two people who made the phenomenon of FP Jones happen. My names is Elizabeth Cooper, and I have the privilege to speak with Forsythia Paloma Jones and her brother, Forsythe Pendleton Jones…_

_…FP Jones comes, obviously, from our shared initials, but it’s also a tribute to our father, Forsythe Pendleton Jones II. He’s currently imprisoned…_

_…’The Fourth X’ is based on our real-life investigation that lead us to find sufficient evidence for FP’s case to be reopened. The fact is, the police screwed up and he went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit…_

_…he’s getting out soon, hopefully, it’s been over two years…_

_…our pen name simply had to be FP Jones, but we also wanted anonymity…_

_…changed our names, officially. Turns out it’s very easy to actually become Jellybean in the United States…_

_…and so I chose Jughead Frederick Fitzroy, after Frederick Forsyth, found that somewhat fitting. And JB became Jellybean Harper Fitzroy, named herself after Harper Lee…_

_…Jelly sold our first novel when she was just eighteen. And I must say, she had a lot more to do with that one than I did…_

_…don’t be so modest, big brother…_

_…I also teach a creative writing class at community college in the evenings, can’t imagine my students’ reactions when they find out I don’t just write niche sci-fi short stories…_

_…we knew we had to actually do it someday. It’s impossible to keep such a secret in New York City, we managed for a while but then ‘The Fourth X’ got us on the NYT’s bestsellers list…_

_…Jellybean wanted to do it a long time ago, I was the one who was skeptical. I value privacy over a lot of other things in life…_

_…we inherited the bookstore from out grandmother and started hosting meetings with FP Jones, sometimes I would go inside the box, other times it was Jug. We have pretty similar voices, so with a modulator you really couldn’t say that there were two different people on different occasions there…_

_…we spread a rumor he was our mutual friend and we hosted the meetings out of courtesy to him…_

_…if someone wanted to find out, I reckon it wasn’t that hard. We weren’t that careful, to be honest, but then again, FP Jones wasn’t that famous before ‘The Fourth X’ and it kind of took us by surprise…_

_…just a couple of people knew. My best friend Archie, our closest family and JB’s boyfriend, and that’s it, we managed to do it because the inner circle was very tight…_

_…at some point we started talking about FP Jones like he was a real person, any time someone would ask me about FP I’d sort of describe Jughead, he’d describe me and we eventually sort of organically created this character, our writer friend who was very secretive and didn’t want to be disturbed, when in reality he was hiding in plain sight…_

_…we want to invite you to the meeting on Friday, which is still taking place, of course, stay tuned for the change in venue…_

_…we hope to be able to answer more questions then, questions that have to do with actual writing process, which is quite interesting when you’re collaborating…_

_…right now we just wanted to focus on the reveal and confessing everything…_

 

All in all, it was a great interview. Betty didn’t contribute much words, but she steered the conversation in all the directions the fans might consider important and interesting.

As for her, she just wanted to hear something from him, some kind of truth or explanation, or yelling, or a bunch of curses, _anything_. She needed to know if the book that now lied on the bedside table in her own apartment, a couple of miles away, if he possibly wanted it to be more than a bribe. If the paper it was wrapped in meant anything, or if it was just a coincidence, some nonsensical, silly coffee pun that he found moderately funny.

She found out around midnight, when she rolled in the sheets for the hundredth time, trying to fall asleep, and saw the screen of her silenced phone lit up.

He sent two texts in quick succession.

 

_Jughead Frederick Fitzroy 12:03 am_

_I was late yesterday, because it wasn’t easy to find the perfect wrapping paper._

 

_Jughead Frederick Fitzroy 12:03 am_

_If you’d be willing to talk to me, I’m sitting near Burnett Fountain in Central Park._

 

A very silly grin crept onto Betty’s face. She changed his contact name in her phone to ‘Jughead Jones’, dressed quickly and slinked out of Veronica’s apartment. She needed to hurry—Central Park closed at 1 am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wanted to include the meeting scene, but I also wanted to post it asap, so... sorry :)
> 
> Can you tell I like writing them speaking via text messages?


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grande finale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, almost a month. Sorry-I'm literally at work all the time. Plus, I had a massive writer's block ;/
> 
> Hope it was worth the wait! I still can't believe I managed to produce 40 Word pages of one story. AND I FINISHED IT. In the future, I think I'll stick to one-shots, though :P

There was nobody else in sight when she got to the fountain, which actually resembled a small pond more than anything else. Jughead sat on one of the stone benches around it, in faint gleam of streetlights, and immediately stood up at the sight of her.

“Betts,” he breathed as she approached. Was he surprised that she came?

They just stood there for a couple of moments, staring at each other. Betty couldn’t decide which of the two she wanted more—to punch him or to kiss him. Any action would require taking at least three steps ahead, though, and at the moment she seemed to be grounded in one place, so she did nothing.

“Look—“ they both started at the same time.

Jughead sighed and took off his hat. “Let me, please.”

She nodded, realizing it was the first time she saw him without the beanie on. He had nice hair, as black as night, a bit longer than most guys his age, but the slightly old-fashioned haircut suited him.

“I should’ve told you the truth about myself and Jellybean when I had the chance,” he admitted.

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked simply.

“I got… scared. I don’t know. I just rarely—” he paused and gestured vaguely between them. He then took two cautious steps towards her.

“Jug,” she said quickly. “I need to tell you, earlier today I was furious with you. I was disappointed and… hurt. And I can’t quite fathom _why_ , because we met, what, four or five days ago? You’ve got every right to keep any secret you want from me! Was it crazy of me to feel so betrayed?” she considered, looking at him expectantly, wondering if maybe he could provide an answer to the question.

“Let’s just establish that for some reason we’ve all been a little crazy lately,” he replied, to which she chuckled nervously. “I fucked up, Betty. Yesterday, I should have—“

“—told me you co-wrote some of my favorite books on the planet? Yeah, I’m still processing that fact.”

“That, too. Also—“

“What?” she urged, because he suddenly trailed off, perhaps second guessing himself yet again, as if she hasn’t just come to see him in Central Park in the middle of the night. “What?” she repeated softly, when he glanced at her lips and then back at her eyes.

With a determined look on his face, Jughead closed the remaining gap between them and, finally— _finally_ , kissed her. She let out a slightly shocked, muffled sound, but returned the kiss rather eagerly.

Almost immediately, before she even managed to move her arms up and around his neck, a forceful grunt disrupted their moment. “The park is closing, lovebirds.”

Betty shot the park-keeper a deadly glance, but Jughead couldn’t suppress a happy laugh. “Come on, Betts. I know a place where we can talk in peace and eat some of the best fries this city has to offer at 1 in the morning.”

She looked at him, serenity filling her heart, intertwined their fingers just like the day before and said, “Fast food after midnight? Always.”

“Have a good night, sir!” Jughead offered as they departed. The park-keeper saluted them.

“You know, I was wondering, what should I call you now, huh?” asked Betty jokingly, when they exited the Central Park holding hands. “Is Jughead a means of avoiding your real name, _Forsythe_?”

“Exactly. I kinda like it when you say ‘Juggy’, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay, Juggy. I kinda like it when you say ‘Betts’.”

“Okay, Betts.”

 

*

 

“I can’t believe you’ve been to Pop’s before,” Jughead said, when they waited for their triple portion of fries while sipping on cream-decorated milkshakes.

“And not once. Veronica, Kevin and I practically know the menu by heart,” Betty giggled. “When I wrote reviews for NYT, my palette demanded frequent cleansing, and I discovered it could only be achieved with a classic American meal in a 24/7 diner.”

He grinned. “It also happens to be a place where most of ‘The Fourth X’ came to life.”

“You’re joking!” Betty exclaimed.

“Yeah. I mean, no, I’m not joking,” he chuckled. “I’d even say it’s highly likely we’d met before. For a couple of weeks I’d spent literally ten hours a day here, editing Jelly’s work or writing my parts. Thanks, Pop,” he added, when the owner himself brought them a huge plate of freshly prepared fries, which looked more like a quadruple than triple portion.

“Didn’t know my two favorite customers knew each other,” Pop said in his usual hearty manner. “It’s on the house. Enjoy, kids,” he winked at them and went back to bustling around the diner.

“Told you,” Jughead said. “He’d usually give me pretty good advice on my writing, too.”

“Really? Some of my best food metaphors were written under Pop’s influence. For all we know, he might be, I don’t know… an undercover author.”

They both glanced at the owner and burst out laughing. With an almost unnoticeable smirk on his face, Pop started brewing a fresh pot of coffee, whistling a happy melody under his breath.

 

*

 

Further into the night, their conversation became more serious. When they were halfway through the fries (most of them eaten in the only right way, dipped in milkshake), Betty asked Jughead how he felt about having just a few hours of peacefulness left.

“Not great,” he admitted. “I don’t know. I don’t like the lack of privacy part, but at the same time I’m kind of excited to meet the fans in person, or, well, _persons_. Jelly’s bound to be better at it than me though, you’ll see. Only in limelight does she become her true self. And, of course, FP will be thrilled. He’s never been a fan of the whole hiding thing, thinks it’s a form of running away, which I’m prone to, according to him.”

“When are the police going to re-open the investigation?” Betty asked.

“I was told he should be out within the next month. I mean, you read the book, the evidence we gathered is solid. Not much of it is fiction, really. It’ll just be a quick trial, some paperwork and then we can go on a family vacation to Florida or something equally lame and wonderful. I’m sorry, am I taking too much? I’m usually more… terse,” Jughead chuckled nervously.

Betty smiled. “I don’t mind.”

He squeezed her hand and said, “Betts, I’m glad I get to spend the remaining hours of my private life with you—what is this?” he murmured and, to Betty’s embarrassment and fright, he turned her hand palm up to examine it closely.

“It’s a thing of the past,” she whispered. “I cope in other ways, now.”

Without hesitation, he took her hands in his, brought them to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. And, as if nothing happened, he continued with the FP subject, although his grip on her hands firmed significantly. “I was going to ask you to come and visit FP in prison with me on Friday, but then I realized it might not be a very good first date idea.”

Betty snorted with laughter. “We should count Monday evening as the first date. I’ll consider the copy of _Beloved_ to be an equivalent of flowers.”

 

*

 

At dawn, Betty slipped back into Veronica’s apartment to get a few hours of sleep. She felt like she barely closed her eyes, though, when Ronnie burst into the guest bedroom with an armful of newspapers, which she dumped on Betty’s bed.

“Rise and shine!” she yelled.

“Whatimeisit—“ Betty muttered.

“Seven thirty,” Veronica responded cheerfully. “Come on, B, you have a man to seduce today, and he’s a proper _celebrity_ now.”

“Oh, that’s already taken care of,” Betty said with a big yawn, sitting up. “We went on a date in the middle of the night. I thought you hated waking up this early, V.”

“WHAT!” Veronica shouted, shaking off the initial shock. “You have a story to tell, honey!”

Betty told her everything in short sentences, because she was eager to see the articles.

“So happy for my babies,” said Veronica, wiping an invisible tear from under her eye. “I’m nothing, though, wait until Arch hears about it…”

From what they read, it seemed like Jellybean released the podcast in the middle of the night. Even as a fairly experienced young journalist, Betty was quite impressed with how quickly every major newspaper managed to incorporate the story into their morning issues. Most of them used an old photo of Jughead and Jellybean as children, him hugging her protectively in front of some drive-in cinema. Betty smiled at the beanie on little Jughead’s head.

“If papers are so sensational, I’m afraid to look on the Internet,” Veronica said.

She brought her laptop anyway. Basically, the story exploded and by eight o’clock #FPJonesExposed was trending on every social media imaginable. The podcast got shared on Facebook several thousand times and the number of New Yorkers signed up for Friday’s event skyrocketed.

“Well, I’ve had enough,” Veronica stated after they finished reading a gif-interspersed article entitled ‘27 FP Jones’ Quotes That Made Us Fall In Love With Crime Novels All Over Again’. “I’m going out, I have to pick the food truck up from the sprayer’s, it should be ready by now. See you later in Riverdale, yeah?”

Betty had an afternoon shift at 4 pm. Having the morning to herself, she decided to first of all come back home, take a shower and change into fresh clothes. And hopefully also meet Kevin and fill him in, as she feared he might have already heard the news elsewhere. She left with Veronica and they parted near an underground station.

Kevin indeed was home, so they were able to have a chat over tea in the kitchen, as they often did. He was an excellent listener, gasped in all the right places and excitedly hugged her in the end, after hearing about the previous night in Central Park and Pop’s.

And so, Betty was in a very good mood, especially after she started receiving funny text messages from Jughead, in which he narrated his day for her.

 

_Jughead Jones 10:01 am_

_I’m officially out of ideas for Friday’s venue. It’s 20 thousand and counting._

 

_10:05 am_

_I may have something, but have to check. I’ll let you know._

 

_Jughead Jones 10:06 am_

_Please. Asap. I’m desperate._

 

_Jughead Jones 11:23 am_

_Against my better judgment, I went out to buy some groceries. There’s now as many as three fan selfies out there. One of them may be blurred, as I was shaking nervously while he took it._

 

_Jughead Jones 11:52 am_

_May have to ditch the beanie for a while. Too trademark._

 

_Jughead Jones 1:43 pm_

_We may actually start making money in the bookstore, by now there’ve been about twice as many customers as normally in a week’s time. Jelly’s in seventh heaven, she keeps hugging everyone._

 

_Jughead Jones 1:45 pm_

_And I stopped counting the selfies._

 

_2:15 pm_

_I’ve a venue for you, and it comes with catering, sort of. Pick me up from Riverdale at 10?_

 

 _J_ _uggy 2:15 pm_

_Only if you save me one of your huge chocolate cookies._

 

_Juggy 2:16 pm_

_And a kiss. See you then._

 

*

 

Betty was sure Archie fractured at least three of her ribs, before he finally let her go. She was having a great shift with him, Ethel and Joaquin, and was just in the middle of a friendly chat with the timid flat white man, when Veronica entered and said, voice shaking with excitement, “We’re all set for Friday!”

The fiesta was supposed to start on the Friday afternoon and finish on Sunday. One by one, because someone still had to serve the customers, they went outside the coffee shop to admire the truck. Betty was pleasantly surprised. The painter did a marvelous job—the car was elegant, painted in their signature colors of blue and gold and equipped with a brand new coffee machine.

All in all, Betty couldn’t wait for Friday.

 

*

 

Forsythe Pendleton Jones II was a very interesting man, although Betty got kind of distracted by the whole straight-out-of-a-movie prison visitation experience. They were thoroughly searched and had to show their IDs and withstand a very stern officer’s glance, before they were allowed to sit in a glass booth with two black telephone receivers and wait for FP. When he finally came, escorted by yet another officer, Jughead confidently introduced Betty as his girlfriend.

For an hour, they talked mainly about the sudden fame that came about Jughead’s and Jellybean’s lives this morning. Betty also had to speak about herself, of course. It turned out that FP, an avid New York Times reader, was familiar with her work.

“I mainly like the crossword,” he said, chuckling in a manner somewhat resembling his son’s laughter. “Haven’t missed one in nearly a decade. But your restaurant reviews helped me survive the month when that knucklehead Reggie was making oatmeal for breakfast. You’ve never eaten anything more foul, believe you me.”

When their hour almost passed, Betty left, so Jughead could speak to his father in private. To her surprise, he came out of the room not even a minute after her. She wondered if it’d be okay to ask him what they talked about, but she didn’t have to.

“He just told me never to run away from you,” he explained. “And I said I didn’t intend to.”

 

*

 

They arrived in Central Park just in time for Betty’s shift to start, although they had a hard time getting to the car through the crowd that came to see Jughead and Jellybean. A stage had been erected in close proximity to Riverdale’s truck, so that Betty was able to observe the whole event while working.

Jughead and Jellybean’s publisher got involved, so the whole event really was excellently prepared. Through a microphone, he introduced them both with their real given names (still awaiting formal amendment) and admitted that it was not easy to be one of the few, who were in on the secret.

“Well, the past week sure was crazy,” Archie said to Betty, grinning. “You got yourself a boyfriend, I got myself not less than _two_ awesome girlfiends, and Ronnie’s sure gonna move to Soho or Tribeca soon, if we keep selling that much coffee.”

He accepted a payment for four large vanilla cappuccinos.

“Definitely,” Betty replied with a smile.

“So, the godfather-to-your-first-born-child offer still stands, yes?”

“You know what, Archie,” Betty sighed, glancing towards the stage, where Jughead was just answering a fan question. Their eyes somehow met over the hyped up crowd and she was sure he smirked, just for her, in his own unique way. “Yes, it does.”

 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive THANK YOU for reading, everyone who got to the end! <3
> 
> In the first chapter, Veronica mentioned she wanted the signature Riverdale colors to be 'chocolate brown and mint green' after renovation, but it didn't make sense, so I just edited and changed it. BLUE AND GOLD, DUH. I don't know what I was thinking!
> 
> If you find any inaccuracies in the text, please let me know-I'll try and fix whatever I can. If I ever decide to write anything longer again, a detailed outline is definitely a must, as I was struggling to tie all the loose ends and still am not sure whether I managed.
> 
> Before this story, I also wrote a one-shot with Bughead engagement-check it out on my profile!


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